


No place in a new place

by Minkey222



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Not Canon Compliant, References to Depression, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Stream of Consciousness, Suicidal Thoughts, the state of America, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 16:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20067139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minkey222/pseuds/Minkey222
Summary: When Steve woke up there was a weighted heavy feeling in his bones.So it was an average Tuesday, Steve guesses.Nothing ever happens on a Tuesday.Except everything happens on a Tuesday.Steve even crashed on a Tuesday.(shame he couldn’t have stayed dead)





	No place in a new place

**Author's Note:**

> Dunno what this is. just kinda happened lol. Bit of a vent. Steve deffo has depression, soz (so do i so it's fine).

When Steve woke up there was a weighted heavy feeling in his bones. Each breath felt as though he was lifting a thousand pounds. Each blink felt like dragging the sun from the sky. The thought of doing anything other than lay there exhausted him. The bed growing strings, sewing his body to the mattress- weaving his skin into the linen, his body becoming part of the furniture, growing cobwebs and moulding over.

So it was an average Tuesday, Steve guesses.

Nothing ever happens on a Tuesday.

Except everything happens on a Tuesday.

Bucky fell on a Tuesday.

Peggy died on a Tuesday.

Steve even crashed on a Tuesday.

(shame he couldn’t have stayed dead)

Steve rolled over.

It was hard to think of a time when he didn’t feel like this. His thoughts foggy and hazy like a layer of plastic wrap had squeezed its way around his eyes and brain and everything important was sealed away in an impenetrable coating. 

One thing that he’d noticed about this new world was the amount of plastic that it used, threw away and disregarded. When Steve was young and fresh and not wearied with _ age _ (but with illness) everything was scarce and precious and every bit of trash could be reused and kept and treasured because they had _ nothing _. Food was fresh, mostly, from the farmer and the butcher and the baker and the fisher if they could afford it, otherwise, it was from tins, lots and lots of tins and paper wrapping that could be kept and repurposed (paper shoved in shoes that he’d never grow into, tins used as legs of a table that broke weeks ago but they couldn’t afford a new one).

But now- now there was so much waste. Food and clothes and metal and plastic and- so much that Steve feels sorrow for every crumb that goes in the trash, remorse for every tin that doesn’t get reused, for every shirt that doesn’t get donated or shared or fixed. Living in the twenty-first century doesn’t help with this underlying need to save every penny and living with Stark who has no care for possession doesn’t help with the guilt. This new century is so obsessed with belongings and yet treats them so poorly.

Steve barely had a thing to his name in his youth, shared a single spoon with bucky for at least 6 months in the thick of it.

Now everything has changed.

Consumerism, Steve has decided, is something that he doesn’t like. 

They even use his image to sell, sell, sell. 

Steve sinks further into the mattress. Unmoving. 

And these big companies, Steve thinks, control the population. 

Steve had fought for the little guy, the underdog and for freedom- true freedom, for everybody. Freedom to think for themselves and live as they see fit.

Nowadays they are controlled by these companies, by the government, who tell them what to do, what to like, what to _ buy _. There’s no freedom in that. 

But at its base level, Steve had fought against nazis.

But it seems even they prevailed.

The ice was better than whatever new fresh hell he’d woken up into.

He had fought against then nazis, the racists, the sexists, the abusers. 

He tried to keep the little guys safe.

But when Steve looks at the government and sees what they promote- Steve wonders what he did it all for anyway.

And what’s worse is they use his image to promote _ this _ as well. 

Steve never understands why they have all painted this image of him as this big, sexist, racist, conservative, patriotic man (hating women and immigrants and everything ‘Un-American’) when he never stood for any of it. 

He stood up against the bully- not _ with _ the bully.

For God’s sake- Steve was an immigrant himself. 

But now they just push this thought of _ Captain America _, the true American and use his face to back their hateful ideologies.

God, Steve wishes that they had just left him frozen.

He can’t stand this new era. 

He might’ve been tired before all of this, before Captain America, but now this new time has left him with a deep sense of exhaustion settled in between his ribs. A rattling expanse in his chest and a cavernous and neverending longing for _ home _. 

Steve just wants to go home.

_ Home _.

Now there's a novel thought.

Steve huffs, rolls over.

Shuts his eyes and goes back to sleep, still as exhausted as when he woke up.


End file.
